Young Blood
by sie-nicole
Summary: Marauders Era Jily/Hunger Games AU. Voldemort has already taken over Hogwarts, where he still allows muggleborns to attend - provided they are entered into a competition forcing them to fight to the death.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter or The Hunger Games.

**A/N:** I'm posting this in parts on tumblr, so the chapters are going to be pretty short, just an fyi!

Enjoy!

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Part 1

James Potter dragged his feet on his way to the Great Hall. It was Halloween night and this evening's supper was mandatory for all students. He was nearly late, but felt no pressure to move any faster.

A hand fell onto his right shoulder. Not a friendly pat, but a somber touch, to shift his attention. Sirius Black joined him at his side. The two didn't speak; this occasion was not one for words. They silently shared the small relief that this was their last year and that if today was in their favor, they could go on this year without watching more of their friends die.

It started when Voldemort took control of Hogwarts. Drawing on ideas from the long-retired Triwizard Tournament, he established a new kind of House Cup. Every year, a boy and girl would be chosen from fifth, sixth, and seventh years in each house and forced to duel to the death while the other students watched. It was a cruel assertion of dominance – Voldemort even forced his own house to compete, as a reminder that his favor was a gift.

James and Sirius sat together at the Gryffindor table. The tables were covered in a magnificent feast, second only to the feast they would have to crown the winner. At the Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor tables not a single hand reached for their meal. The Slytherin table seemed unconcerned, taking in the food as though it were the treat it was meant to be.

They had every reason to feel comfortable. The system was unfairly in their favor.

After fifth year, all students were entered once. Instead of House Points, from the start of term until Halloween, any wrong-doings were met with additional entries into the raffle. Blood-traitors, or those not of Pureblood status had their entries doubled.

Most Slytherins were only entered once, but their House was unfairly trained in Dark Arts. To win the tournament for them would be a thing of honor, for chances were that they were "ridding" the wizarding world of impure blood along the way.

Despite the efforts of the other champions, the winner was probably going to be one of them. The thought made James sick.

The chatter at the Slytherin table ended abruptly. The attention of every student shifted to the head table, where Voldemort stood front and center. His eyes, though a deep shade of red, reflected a great deal of excitement. His pale skin seemed to be pulled as tightly as possible across his skull, accentuating every one of his angular features. His thin lips stretched into a smile and at last, he spoke.

"Welcome, everyone, to the Reaping."

His head fell backwards as his mouth opened wider than James imagined being possible and he laughed a deep, dark laugh that seemed to echo throughout the hall. It lasted too long, as though it were a private joke.

"You are all here," he finally started again, "because I am a gracious Lord. Rather than let those of you who have not _earned_ the gift of magic wander the country alongside muggle filth, I have brought you here. But not without a price."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "In exchange for not only allowing you to live, but to live among the rightful owners of magical abilities, I arranged this little competition.

"A pair of you from each of the fifth, sixth, and seventh years in every House shall be entered into an arena, where you will duel–" He paused, a vicious smile across his face. "–to the _death_."

A few first years gasped, quickly covered their mouths. James could only imagine their horror. His heart dropped, thinking of all that those naïve first years would lose after watching their classmates kill each other.

"There are rules, of course, but those we will get to at a later date. All that really matters is the prize – for should a Mudblood win, they will be allowed a wand."

This was the real heart of the games. Even after Voldemort took over, Hogwarts remained a place of magical education. Anyone with at least a half-blood status was allowed to remain and take their (with some modifications, naturally) regular courses. Muggleborns were still in the school, but their classes weren't the same as those of higher blood status. They were forced into Muggle Studies and History of Magic – all focusing on their own illegitimate acquisition of magic. They certainly weren't allowed wands and to be caught with one would have the same result as refusing to come to Hogwarts – death.

At Hogwarts, they were less than second class citizens, with no hope for a future aside from the mundane work other wizards were too proud to do or eventual torture by death eaters. To win the House Cup would mean their blood status would be promoted; they'd be allowed a wand and an education. They wouldn't be equal to purebloods, but they'd be better off. The competition designed as a way for them to kill each other off was their only real chance at surviving.

With nothing else of importance to say, and eager to line up students for slaughter, Voldemort pulled his wand from his robes, raised his arm, and flicked his wrist. In front of him, ignored until this point, a dark sheet flew off of the ancient, repurposed Goblet of Fire.

It started with the fifth years from each House, one boy and one girl. There were names James recognized, but none that he knew too well. Then the sixth years were called out, from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. More than halfway through the Reaping and James couldn't think anymore, couldn't breathe until it was over, when a name was called out that pulled him from his horrified haze.

"Black, Regulus."

He whipped his head around to face Sirius. The same thought crossed the collective mind of the Gryffindor table, because all eyes were on Sirius now, looking for a reaction, either out of concern or curiosity. Sirius kept his stare forward, watching his brother walk through the door out of the Great Hall. Years of Reapings had taught him well in guarding himself.

The sixth year Slytherin girl was called, but the Gryffindor table had yet to turn away from Sirius. Another name flew from the Goblet of Fire, and this one they all heard.

"Black, Sirius."

A wave of gasps and cries came from different tables and students now turned to each other to find a way to react. Sirius finally met James' gaze. His marble expression was cracking, but only behind his dark eyes, now glassy with a film of tears James could tell he had been fighting to hold back. Sirius pulled his left leg out from underneath the table and James still couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't let this happen.

"I volunteer!"

The words came tumbling out, louder than he had thought he was capable of speaking, and he was standing up without remembering how it had happened. Sirius was still half-seated at the table and James was on his feet, with hundreds of faces turned to him in horror.

"Prongs, what are you doing?" Sirius hissed at him, grabbing the sleeve of his robe, pulling him back toward the table. Sirius turned to address the room. "He's joking! He's only joking."

James ripped his sleeve from Sirius' grip. "I'm not," he said to Sirius, aware of everyone else listening in. He pushed his lips together tightly, biting down on them from the inside, and placed a hand on Sirius' shoulder.

"Prongs…"

He drained his face of the dread that filled him and turned to face Voldemort.

"I volunteer as the seventh year Gryffindor Champion."

Voldemort tilted his head slightly and James was certain that he was trying to determine what this strategy was. Volunteering was explicitly allowed, but few remembered, since it had yet to be employed. Surely, Voldemort would think that he was up to something, but this hadn't been a plan. It had never crossed James' mind until his best friend thought he'd have to kill his own brother.

Seemingly satisfied, Voldemort straightened himself. "I hope this demonstration of affection proves worth it, Mr. Potter."

James' feet were moving him forward, through the door, to the room with the other students, the ones he would have to duel, and he was sitting by a fire, uncomfortably warm in his sweater and was it only morning when he had put that sweater on? He felt considerably older than he had those few hours before. After only a minute, the door clicked open again. James looked up, knowing his final fellow Gryffindor would be walking through.

A mess of dark red hair walked into the room and caught the entirety of his attention. The girl's green eyes were scared and sad, her jaw was clenched, and her lips were pushed together until they nearly disappeared. As terrified as her eyes were, her body language read determined. She was a Muggleborn. James already knew this, but even if he hadn't, they all had the same confusion of emotions when their name was called. If she won, it would change everything for her, but her chances were slim.

James knew who she was. He was surprised she had made it to their seventh year without competing. He had hoped she would hold out for just one more year.

She was Lily Evans and he was in love with her. And now they'd have to kill each other.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Sorry it took me awhile to update, but now I'm writing like crazy and hopefully will have a few more parts coming out soon. :) this one is a little shorter than the first, but the next part gets into the interviews and such :3 also, you'll start to notice that no one is strictly one character from THG. I expand more on that in future parts. enjoy!

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Part 2

It was quiet by the lake. The November air had a clipped coolness to it that made the hair on James' arms stand up straight through his goosebumps. He took in a deep, cold breath, extended his arms slowly over his head, closed his eyes, and dove into the lake. The water stung every inch of his body, and he fought the urge to struggle against the water, the urge to take another breath. He was living in survival mode now more than ever.

Last night, he had volunteered to participate in a competition that would likely result in his, along with twenty-two of his classmates', death.

He woke that morning hoping that it had been a bad dream, that it would be the morning of the Reaping and he'd avoid that uncomfortably hot sweater and that somehow he and Sirius and Remus and Peter would somehow make it out of their last Reaping unscathed – that Lily Evans would survive the Reaping. But the look on Sirius' face when James drew back the curtains on his bed in the morning was proof that his life was now the stuff of nightmares. He pulled on clothes in silence. Sirius looked at James with a sadness James couldn't stand and Remus and Peter avoided looking at him all together. He knew the routine. They were detaching themselves from him before he died – at least this way, they'd get finality on their own terms.

He couldn't blame them. After all, hadn't he done the same to countless classmates before now? Wasn't he going to do the very same thing to Lily?

Submerged in the water, images of last night flashed like motion photography. The sounds were muffled and distant, leaving him with images and little else. The seventh year champions from the three other Houses slowly filed in, the last being the girl from Slytherin, followed closely by Voldemort. He explained the rules of the tournament and though James hadn't heard any of it, he didn't need to. He had witnessed enough House Cups to know the rules by heart. Instead, James watched Lily. Her eyes were narrowed, focused on Voldemort as he explained the rules, breaking focus only to occasionally lift a strand of dark red hair behind her ear. It was as if she thought that by focusing on the rules, despite already knowing them, she could find some secret bit of information that could make the entire tournament shift toward her favor.

The odds hadn't been in Lily's favor from the moment she was born and there was no secret rule that was going to change that.

James finally broke the surface of the water and a harsh, quick inhale burned in his lungs. He treaded water, remembering how last year the lake had been used as part of the arena, the giant squid taking out a fifth year named Dirk Creswell. James leveled himself horizontally and swam toward the shore. He had come out to the lake to train, but thinking of Dirk made him suddenly sea sick.

By the time he got back to Gryffindor's common room, it had mostly cleared out. Everyone else was heading off to their classes. James no longer had academic obligations. For years, he would have killed to lessen his academic load. He smirked to himself, taking in the sick joke that now he quite literally would be.

Surprisingly, his dormitory wasn't completely empty. Sirius sat on his bed, staring blankly out of the window at the former Quidditch pitch. It would soon be converted into the House Cup arena. He didn't acknowledge James.

"Aren't you going to be late for Potions?"

Sirius broke his stare and regarded James incredulously. "Potions? My concern is supposed to be about being late to Potions right now?"

"Don't be stupid, Padfoot. Since he can't throw you into the House Cup, Voldemort will come up with something particularly heinous to punish you if you screw up now."

"More heinous than killing twenty-two of my classmates?"

James crossed over to his bed and sat down across from Sirius. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah." He turned back to the window. "It'll probably be even worse for me, given that stunt you pulled. I reckon Voldie would have loved to see my brother and I go at it. You deprived him of some quality entertainment." Sirius paused for a moment. "What you did was really stupid, Prongs."

"Oh, come off it."

"I mean it. You had no right to–"

"–save you?" James interrupted. "Keep you from being killed by your own brother – or worse, having to kill your own brother?"

"I don't need you to be my hero, James. I'm already on Voldemort's list. All you've done is gotten yourself killed and condemned me to living the rest of my miserable life knowing that I should have been in your place."

"No. You don't get to do this. You can't check on out me. Not like when your uncle died." Sirius' face fell at James' stern tone. A few years ago, his uncle Alphard Black had been murdered by Death Eaters. Alphard had been one of the few family members Sirius was close to. His disdain for the Dark Arts in a family of blood-purists kept him at an arm's length from others. But Alphard had always supported and understood Sirius. James figured that he never really properly recovered from Alphard's death.

"I won't," Sirius replied, the guilt cracking in his voice.

"No, you can't. You're going to leave this place in a few months and someone needs to be looking out for Moony. We've done what we can to protect him here, but things are going to get a thousand times worse when you guys are out in the world. You have to keep it together." James' voice dropped. "If not for me, then for Remus."

"I will, Prongs."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

The silence filled the space between them. Despite the few inches Sirius had on James, he seemed so small.

"Maybe you can win," Sirius offered after a moment.

James nearly laughed at the idea. "Like I have half of a chance against any of those Slytherins. Your brother alone was cursing fully grown wizards from between the bars of his crib."

"You're a really talented wizard," Sirius said.

"Yeah, well, you're better." James said it quietly, an admission he had kept to himself for years.

"Then why in Merlin's name would you take my place?"

"Because—"

Because Sirius was the better person. Because he could watch out for Moony and Wormtail. Because Sirius still saw the good in people and still wanted to fight back and survive. And because if one of them should have a guaranteed pass for the next few months, it should be Sirius.

"Because you're better," James said. He was sure that Sirius was going to protest, but he met his friend's eyes and knew that Sirius had been keeping the idea to himself this whole time, too.

"You really should get to Potions."

"Yeah, yeah." Sirius rose from his bed and crossed to the doorway. He paused, then turned his head over his shoulder. "Prongs?"

"Yeah?"

Sirius licked his lips and pressed them together tightly before speaking again. "Promise me that you'll at least try to win."

James didn't have the heart to tell him how little fight was left inside of him. Instead, he lifted the corner of his lips and said, "I promise. I'll try."

Sirius nodded, looking back at James one last time before closing the door between them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Shout out to JoRo and Suzanne Collins for creating such amazing universes.

**A/N:** Sooo, here's some actual Jily action...well, interaction, at least. :) And to the awesome reviewer who mentioned it, yes, you will be finding out why James has essentially given up - just not in this part. Enjoy!

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Part Three

The next day began with training for the House Cup, the replacement to James' academic endeavors. There was to be a group class to learn basic spells – _lumos_, _accio_, _expelliarmus_ – spells James could perform in his sleep, but were rarely manageable for the muggleborn champions. Muggleborns were, of course, allowed a wand for training, though they were monitored closely with it and had to turn it in after every session. For all of them, it was the first time they'd ever even touched a wand.

_All but one of them_, James thought.

After the group lesson, they would be free to explore several stations set up to learn and practice skills like Transfiguration, Potions, or Flying.

Voldemort himself never watched the training sessions, but one of his high-ranking followers would always be present. When the champions entered the Great Hall that morning, a pair of icy blue eyes across the Hall zeroed in on James. He recognized them immediately. Their moderator was Lucius Malfoy, who, as a seventh-year Slytherin, had won the House Cup a few years prior by cursing as much food in the arena as he could find. It had struck James as being both particularly awful and particularly cowardly.

Following his victory, Lucius had immediately joined up with the Death Eaters, Voldemort's inner circle, and shot up through the ranks. James wondered if Voldemort had ordered Lucius to keep a special watch on him after he volunteered for Sirius.

The muggleborns crossed over to Lucius to check out the wands they would be using in training. The wands were old and worn-down, some of them with their cores sticking out of the tips, all frayed and splintered. Even if a muggleborn could pick up magic quickly, these wands would never give them perfect results.

James closed his fingers over the end of his own wand, tracing the grooves of the mahogany absentmindedly. He dreaded entering the arena without it.

The fifth year girl from Ravenclaw collected her wand from Lucius, then retreated back to the group of champions, awaiting further instruction.

"In these group lessons, we will be going over basic wand and spell work. For some of you, this may seem tedious-" the Slytherins all seemed to stop mid-eye roll, giving them very much the appearance of dead fish, "-but even the best of wizards can benefit from returning to the basics.

"Now, as we can't have you hurting each other before you enter the arena, you will be practicing against dummies and various magical objects and creatures.

"Today, you will begin with disarming. The incantation is as follows:"

Lucius turned on his heel, whipped his wand toward a dummy across the room and shouted "_Expelliarmus!_"

A few of the muggleborns jumped.

"Once I feel you have performed the spell effectively, I will tap you on the shoulder and you will be free to move on to other spells or other stations. For now, find a dummy."

James darted between his classmates, weaving in between the crowds of his competition, slowing down to land next to Lily. She took no notice of him.

"On my count," Lucius called out lazily. James raised his wand. "One, two-"

His count of three was smothered by the shouts of "_Expelliarmus_!" booming across the Great Hall. A different shout came from James, however. Before he could flick his wand, a burning sensation snapped his wrist backward, causing his grip to loosen and his wand to go flying. James grabbed his wrist instinctively, looking around both for his wand and for the source of the spell that had disarmed him.

"Regulus Black!" Lucius yelled. James whipped around and saw that Regulus' dummy was the only one on the Slytherin end that hadn't been disarmed. His dark eyes were narrowed on James with a murderous level of hatred.

"Regulus!" Lucius repeated more urgently, storming over to the young Black and grabbing him by the collar of his robes. "Come with me, _now_! The rest of you, just…keep disarming – the dummies, not each other! When I get back, if anyone has stepped even a toe out of line…" he trailed off the end of his threat as he exited with Regulus in tow, the boy's eyes still transfixed on James.

"Ten galleons days he's not happy that you took Sirius' place," a light, familiar voice spoke behind him, pulling his focus away from the spot where Regulus had been moments before. James turned to face Lily and found his wand retrieved between her long, delicate fingers. She noticed him staring at her hands and a memory flashed across her face. A flicker of recognition passed over her and she quickly shoved James' wand back at him.

He wanted to thank her for collecting his wand, but that would risk sounding too familiar with her. Muggleborns and purebloods weren't supposed to interact casually, and though that law was now ineffective, as they were both champions in the House Cup, James worried that his tone may betray his past transgressions.

Lily was now focused on her dummy. She waved her wand erratically, making unnecessary mistakes and if anything came out of her wand, it missed her dummy by several feet. Her face never changed its look of fierce determination.

_It's a good act_, James thought.

Without saying a word, James raised his wand, flicked his wrist, and disarmed Lily's dummy.

She spun toward him, somehow managing to look absolutely furious while her mouth hung open. "What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?" she hissed at him.

"Getting you to speak to me, for one."

"Knock it off, Potter."

He grabbed Lily's arm. She froze, staring at his hand, then whipped her head around frantically, as though they were certainly being watched.

"Hey, calm down, okay?"

She ripped her arm away from him. "Don't tell me what to do."

The champions from the other Houses were now all focused on the pair of Gryffindors.

"I'm not…" James took a deep breath before pulling himself closer to Lily. She didn't back away; her eyes were trained forward and her jaw was clenched as she stood her ground against the dark haired boy towering over her. James lowered his voice, speaking barely above a whisper. "Look, those other guys are looking at you like you're a joke. Unless you're aiming to get yourself killed before you can even take a step in the arena, if I were you, I'd stop acting like I'd never used a wand before."

He looked down at Lily. She was still facing forward, her face set as though he hadn't said anything to her at all. He backed away from her.

"Your funeral, I suppose."

Something warm suddenly flashed pasted the side of James' face. He faced Lily and found her wand pointed straight at him. No, not at him, he realized. He turned slowly toward his dummy, twenty feet or so behind him. It had been disarmed.

"Miss Evans!" Lucius' voice echoed throughout the hall. Regulus wasn't with him, James noted. He took long strides toward Lily. "What, _exactly_, were you just doing?"

"I-I-I…" She struggled to reply to Lucius.

"Well, Miss Evans?"

"Sir, she was practicing disarming, as per your instructions." James stepped forward to answer.

"And did she miss my explicit instruction as to _what_ she was to be disarming? That spell barely missed hitting you, Mr. Potter. It looked to me as though–"

"Sir, if you please – she's never even used a wand before. She was probably aiming for her own dummy."

Lucius studied Lily, who kept her head down, as though her shoes were particularly interesting.

"Fine," he said after a moment, seemingly satisfied. "The two of you are dismissed from the group lesson for today."

"Thank you, sir," James said. Lily still hadn't moved, so James grabbed her arm, gently this time, and pulled her away from Lucius. He could feel the older wizard watching them as they walked away.

"Thank you," Lily whispered once they were out of earshot. "And I'm sorry. Sometimes I just let my emotions get the best of me."

"Well, you are a ginger. Isn't that par for the course?"

"Don't make me regret not hexing you."

"Oh, you can hex now? Five minutes ago, you weren't even holding a wand properly."

"And yet, I just disarmed your practice dummy. Apparently I'm full of surprises, so is that a risk you really want to take?"

"Fair point. C'mon." He led her over to a table covered in old spell books. A Ministry witch sat on a stool, her long nose buried into a copy of _Witch Weekly_. A headline flashed across the cover: "Purity and Power: How to Catch (And Keep!) A Pureblood!"

"Books?" remarked Lily skeptically.

"This station is for Defensive Spells," the Ministry witch said in a low monotone, her face never moving from behind the magazine.

"Aren't you supposed to be teaching us?" Lily pressed on.

She raised an eyebrow at Lily's gall. "You can read, can't you? They do still teach that in muggle schools, don't they?"

Lily grabbed a large, dusty volume in front of her. "Fine." She walked several feet away from the table and sat down on the floor, her legs folded over each other. James followed, taking a seat across from her.

"Do you think there will be Dementors in the arena this year?" Lily asked flatly. She was racing her fingers across the pages, clearly still upset from the interaction with the Ministry Witch, but also trying to move on from the subject. James decided to not push it.

"They're a favorite of Voldemort's, so it's possible. Why do you ask?"

"Because any other magical creature, I can beat with a number of spells or by simply outsmarting it, but Dementors require – Aha!" She turned the book to face James.

"_Expecto patronum_. That's a difficult bit of spellwork."

"I know. But it's the only spell you can use against them and I don't want to end up cornered and defenseless."

James remembered how, in the earlier years of the House Cup, Gideon Prewett had ended up in that exact situation. His twin brother, Fabian, was killed by Voldemort himself a few months later, after Fabian joined a resistance movement called the Order of the Phoenix. The entire organization had been wiped out by Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

"Alright. You know the incantation, then?" She nodded. "Now think of a memory – the happiest one you can think of –"

"Happy?" she interrupted. "Am I supposed to have happy memories?"

"Just try," he replied.

She closed her eyes tight. James thought of his happiest memory. In his fifth year, he, along with Sirius and Peter, worked diligently and secretively to become Animagi. They had discovered that Remus was a werewolf and felt they could better protect him from Voldemort and his cronies by making his monthly visits to the Forbidden Forrest with him – and the only safe way to do so was in animal form. That was his happiest memory – running around the grounds with Sirius, Remus, and Peter in Animagus form. The full moon hung above them and James could hardly contain his excitement that they were breaking the rules on such a massive scale. These four boys had secret identities right under Voldemort's nose. It was something he could never take from them.

"Okay?"

"Yes."

"Now say the incantation."

Lily raised her wand. "_Expecto patronum_," she whispered, her eyes still closed.

Silver wisps stretched from the tip of her wand slowly, then disappeared. When she opened her eyes, James could feel the disappointment that ran through her.

"Don't worry. You might need a stronger memory. Here, watch."

He concentrated on his happiest memory and said the incantation. A large silver stag erupted from his wand. Lily gasped as it pranced around her and across the room before fading out.

"Go on. Try again."

The young witch mouthed the spell a few times. She took a deep breath and repeated the words aloud, her voice stronger than the first time. "_Expecto patronum._"

Silver lines shot out of her wand and flew together to form a larger shape.

"Keep your wand steady, that's it!" James was impressed and he took no steps to hide his excitement.

The last of the silver mist flew from her wand and the shape fully emerged. The smile on his face dropped as it approached him.

Lily Evans' Patronus was a doe.


End file.
